Okay
by starkidklainer
Summary: Blaine angst. Only a little bit of swearing involved. I'm not really sure how to summarise this, so sorry about that, but give it a chance? Slight AU.


**So this is just a spontaneous little thing that found it's way onto the page. Blaine angst. That's about it :)**

**_Okay._**

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Blaine lay on his bed, his open palm empty and cold.

It had been another day. Another night. Another set of troubles and worries that had sparked something inside of him.

The buzzing vibrations of his phone, which had recently left that now-empty spot on his palm, had been replaced by violent shivers being sent throughout his uncomfortably tense body. He lay on his right side, his legs drawn up to his chest and his left arm draped carelessly over his face, his hand clawing and pulling on the mass of muddy curls on his head. The sound of his laptop whirring somewhere nearby was the only other sound that blended into the air apart from his own persistent sobs.

It was another night he'd ended up curled up on his bed, his soft, strangled cries breaking through the almost-silence of his dark, lonely bedroom. His tears had turned the pristine white sheet grey and his brow had been furrowed so hard for so long it had given him a headache.

The truth was, funnily enough, that he was fine. Well, that's what he liked to believe. He was so busy with the mundane distractions of life; it wasn't often that he came to this state.

So what if sometimes he'd have to try extra hard not to cry when he was simply spoken to by a teacher at school? That was just stress from all the work and assignments. Maybe sometimes he felt angry at the entire world for not giving a fuck about the things he deemed most important, but not everyone can get their way all the time, right? And sure, maybe sometimes he can't help but feel like there is absolutely nothing he can do right, that he's never good enough and the only thing he's good for is his attempts at helping others, but what else can he do?

He _wanted _to help. He _wanted _everyone else to feel happy and wanted and cared for. Of course, Blaine felt happy and wanted and all of that stuff too most of the time…it was only sometimes that something would trigger him to just break down a little. Or maybe it would just happen for no reason at all, he could never tell.

Either way, one of those times was now.

Blaine continued to shake and cry, everyone muscle in his body so tense he felt like he was slowly being torn to pieces. His eyes were burning. His back was aching. His head felt like it was going to explode and his body couldn't decide whether it was on fire or whether it was turning to ice. He felt like he was being strangled by his own pointless sobs and if he didn't find a tissue soon then things were going to get messier than they already were.

The clock flashed and Blaine managed a glance at the time. 12:17am. Fuck. He had a test first thing in the morning and he hadn't studied. Jesus Christ.

He threw the nearest object he could find. Hard. The phone flew across to the other side of the bed and crashed into his pillows with a muffled thud. He took his head between both hands and squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel the blood rushing to his head as he tried to stay in that position instead of collapsing back into the mattress to cry again.

After too long spend caved in on himself, Blaine sighed and heaved his body up into some resemblance of what one would call a "sitting position". He really was okay. If you'd asked him at that moment, as he was recovering from drowning in an ocean of salty tears, what had been wrong, he would not have been able to give you an answer.

Blaine was fine most of the time. There was something in him that rose to the surface on occasion and forced him to become a complete, total and utter mess, but he really was okay. There were much more important things out in the world to worry about than his own ridiculous tendencies.

Of course, he wouldn't be lying if he said he wished that someone would notice. That someone would really _see_ what an emotional wreck he could be. But, as he'd told himself a million times before, it didn't matter. He wasn't _always _aware of this feeling anyway.

Just sometimes, when the rest of the world was sleeping, it would come out and rudely remind him that it was still there, like an old friend that was no longer welcome.

_End._

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**Thanks for reading! Reviews obviously aren't compulsory, but always appreciated **


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